We are all Dead Poets
by NothingToulouse
Summary: Then he found himself repeating all the words he had just cried out [...] into the shivering, powerless shoulder of his friend, it seemed to echo in his mind, seemed to be echoed by every gravestone. No slash, only despair and friendship


**we are all dead poets**

_Tu fui ego eris_

Todd?

His black coat shivered in the ruthless, cold air, not realizing that it was his name which the voice was calling.

Todd!

He turned away from the grave, stared at his feet, at the dark, frozen ground and felt hot tears well up in his eyes.

Feet approached, the voice came nearer.

Todd.

He heard sorrow, woe and – and this was the worst of all – pity in the voice, a broken voice, and he started sobbing, uncontrollably, he found himself crying in the helpless, weak arms of his friend, he grabbed his coat, held onto it when he lost himself and cried, cried out into the freezing world of injustice.

His whole body shook in the cold, in anguish.

Then he found himself repeating all the words he had just cried out, repeating everything, whispering it into the shivering, powerless shoulder of his friend, it seemed to echo in his mind, seemed to be echoed by every gravestone.

It's his fault, it's all his fault, Charlie, Neil wouldn't have done it, it's his fault, his father's fault, Charlie, how could he do this?

He looked up and noticed the stiff man coming toward them from the left, from the grave.

The grave, oh, Neil.

The glare of the dead son's father hit him, testily and enraged.

What do you know, nothing, nothing at all, how dare you.

He opened his mouth, agitated.

The hands on his sleeves gripped him more firmly.

Sir.

Feet on the cold ground, the large, irate man left.

Again, his throat felt like it was on fire, he choked, felt like he had to run for cover, until he felt his friend's arms hold him, keeping him from losing control yet again.

He looked up.

Todd.

Bloodshot eyes, exhaustion, a broken voice.

Nuwanda? his eyes asked, his whole face asked, his hands suddenly felt numb, so numb.

No, it wasn't him, it wasn't Nuwanda, he couldn't see him, it wasn't him, it was…

It's alright, Todd.

It's alright.

Nothing.

Nothing was right.

They got it all wrong, Charlie.

It's his fault.

Neil is dead.

Todd.

Wake up, Todd.

You can't explain it, Todd.

Todd.

It's alright.

Neil!

He felt another hand rest on his shoulder, his friend's arms which had been giving cover, let go off him, he took a step back.

O Captain, he heard the broken voice say.

Boys.

Silence, then a nod toward the group of students in front of the chapel.

Let's leave.

He felt as if he'd slip away anytime, his heart raced and then the two beside him grabbed hold of him, guided him away from the grave.

He felt like he'd become frozen.

He breathed in and out, heavily, stopped on his way, everything was a blur and he struggled with desperation.

His friend's voice made him look up.

Todd, please come.

Pleading.

He didn't want him to plead, it was not like him.

He looked into his friend's eyes and seemed to be able to read in the weakness, the despair.

It was not like him.

I know, Todd.

I can't go on either, Todd.

O me! O life!

Todd, please.

Please.

Wake up.

I know.

It's alright.

Carpe Diem.

Please.

Neil! he heard himself cry out, again cry out, although he hadn't meant to, didn't want to. He felt he made it harder for them, harder than it already was.

Again, the man placed his hand on his shoulder.

Let's leave – alright there, Dalton?

Silence.

It's alright, Captain.

Alright.

Oh, Neil!

A broken voice which has lost all life.

A dead voice.

Neil is dead, Todd.

Dead.

We are all dead.

Dead Poets who went to the woods.

Wake up.

Who wanted to live deliberately.

It's alright.

To live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.

O Captain, my Captain.

To put to rout all that was not life.

Todd, please.

And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

* * *

_Tu fui ego eris (latin): "I was you, you will be me", thus: "What you are, I was; what I am, you will be."_

Disclaimer: If it was mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, would I?

A/N: Drabble. No slash intended. I hope my English was alright, I'm German. Of course you can state mistakes in your reviews, I will try and improve as well as correct them! By the way - if you've come this far, please take the time to review and make my day brighter by some (constructive) critism. Thank you! Oh, and I also want to thank Hobbity, who sort-of inspired me to write this one-shot. Everyone should go and read her story "Orange Juice Aeroplanes". It's the best I've read so far and I'm madly in love with it. Have a nice day, everybody!

* * *


End file.
